


A Reason to Fight

by TheAnimangaGirl



Series: The Amell Chronicles [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Amaranthine (Dragon Age), Drama, F/M, Miscarriage, chancellor amell, mistress amell, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:28:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAnimangaGirl/pseuds/TheAnimangaGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years have passes since the end of the Fifth Bligh and now Warden Commander Amell is detemined to find a cure for the taint. However King Alistair suspects that there is more that meet the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The  Ball

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is rated M due a delicate topic touched upon it I recommend to proceed with caution. Nothing explicit or descriptive.

-There were few people more feared, and respected in Ferelden than Chancellor Amell. She was a sensible person, capable of navigating the Fereldan royal court at ease. Sometimes even with more ease that his Majesty King Alistair. She knew when it was wise to be quiet and when it was the best option to speak her mind. Her silver tongue helped defuse heated situations many times , and by many was regarded an accomplished player of the Fereldan Game. Her dual  status as Arlessa, and Warden Commander gave her a strong weight in the Landsmeet, and the immunity she required for being a mage. An issue that had heated conversations more than once in the Bannon and in Denerim palace.  In addition, she could be an intimidating character, with the Archdemon Urthemiel in her long list of enemies slain with her infamous sword. She was either respected or feared by anyone who had even the slightest shred of common sense.

 

A particular lady from court, Lady Laurel was as distinct as you could get from the Hero of Ferelden. She was one of the very single and very available ladies that roamed the court for the past years, by invitation of Arl Eamon. His plan was that one of the noble ladies would eventually catch the King’s eye, and sired an heir.

Half of Denerim knew it was a foolish plan, King Alistair had eyes only for the Hero of Ferelden. And as was discovered by the many Banns that had sent marriage propositions to the Hero, the feeling was very mutual. The Chancellor however  didn’t object openly to Eamon’s plan since she knew that in fact, the King did need an heir. Lady Laurel started like many of them, false flattery and shameless flirting. To her disdain, the King was completely oblivious to the flirting part, or if he wasn’t he hid it very well.

 

Not that Lady Laurel wasn’t pretty or accomplished, but she was as distinct as anyone could get from the Hero of Ferelden.  Lady Laurel had very pale skin, which it appeared to glow under certain light, her blue eyes were piercing, and her face was symmetrical and angular, in contrast to the Hero’s rounded face. Moreover, she was a blonde with her long hair usually left down flowing in her back. Another difference to Amell’s permanent tight bun. And while the Hero was reserved when talking, there were few things in Ferelden that could stop Lady Laurel to give her opinion, whether it was required or not.

 

The situation became better to the visiting ladies six months after the coronation of the king, as the Chancellor, or rather, the Arlessa was called to Amaranthine. Grey Warden Business kept her away from Denerim for months at the time, allowing her to maneuver the court and neutralize several potential rivals by exposing scandals or even inventing new ones, all this with the blessing of the acting Chancellor and Arl of Denerim Eamon Guerrin. Five ladies had arrived to court with the intention of seducing the king, only three remained. The last one, Lady Ceville had not only been expelled from court, but also had been banished from Denerim permanently. A scandal that could have threatened the stability of the whole country had not been for the Hero’s impeccable timing. And Lady Laurel’s  _ very  _ convenient observations.

  
  


The Hero’s deployment to Amaranthine didn’t stop the King’s frequent visits to the Arling for ‘crown business in regards of sovereign territory given to an international military organization’.  The title of such quests did not fool anyone, everybody knew who was the only one who shared the King’s bed. And with that strange arrangement the years began to roll on, thinning Lady Laurel’s and many nobles patience.

 

Such strange arrangement came to a delicate point on the Anniversary Ball of 9:37. It was a celebration day as it was the day the Archdemon was killed and the Blight ended. Everyone who was someone during the Blight was there. Veterans, human, elves, and dwarfs were invited. The dance was vivid, warm rich colors were everywhere in the ballroom, a display of how far the country had gone from the days of the Blight.

Wine, Mead and Elven recipes were served, it was probably the only day of the year you could see true equality between the people in Ferelden.

 

Even Vigil’s Keep, that had almost been destroyed after the Darkspawn Siege of 9:31 now stood proudly, and strong in the Arling of Amaranthine. Said Arling had flourished under the governance of the Hero of Ferelden, the Grey Warden flag that waved in Vigils’s Keep and the was flown together with the Arling coat of Arms gave the port city of Amaranthine the plus it had needed to rebuild, and extend the commercial links with the Free Marches, Kirkwall  in particular. Too much to the contempt of many nobles in the City of Chains but to the utter delight of the Merchant Guild. Unbeknown to the Hero, the name Amell apparently opened more than one lock after the Champion took the mantle..

 

The music was vivid as had been the other years, dance styles clashed and collided on the floor, which was slowly giving birth to new styles. Styles that probably would faint any Orlesian noble. The clock had already rung ten times and the gathered crowd settled, ready for the yearly speech from the king. The speech was getting brighter each year, the first Anniversary Ball had a very somber note. The King rose as dignified as any descendant of Moira Theirin would, long gone were the speculations of his parentage as every year was becoming harder to differentiate the King from his late half brother and father. Yet many noticed his uneasy glance he casted towards the main door. 

 

The Hero of Ferelden hadn’t arrived. 

 

The King took a deep breath, ready to begin, when the grand doors opened revealing the Hero of Ferelden, in full Warden light silverite armor, flanked by six warden.  Three of them carried red gloves, the distinctive mark of any Warden in the Medical division. The other three warden were a very tall woman carrying a sword and shield, a Dalish elf with a bow in her back and perhaps more surprising, Nathaniel Howe. 

Some people present whispered, but the black haired Warden retained an impassive and grim expression on his face.

 

The king on the other hand gave a deep sigh of relief when the Arlessa walked toward his position and stood beside him. He gave her a very tiny smile and was acknowledged by a nod and an even smaller smile from her.

 

He began his speech, which made more than a couple of Banns and dwarves shed some discrete tears. Once the speech was done it was followed by the mandatory five minutes of silence, in honor to those who had perished by the Blight and it’s aftermath. After that the music resumed and the Hero quietly disappeared to change into more formal clothings, namely a dress. The Wardens who had arrived with her quietly dissapeared in the crowd.It was then, when everybody was distracted by the Wardens in blue uniform and Silverite armor when Lady Laurel materialized by the King’s side, like a viper ready to strike.

 

The music started and the King had no option but to begin to dance with the lady. A twirl here a court there, turn around and spin your partner. While no one would call the King a master dancer, years of practice showed visibly.

 

“Oh your majesty, such a splendid Ball! Did you organized it all by yourself?” she said smiling widely taking the King’s arm. More than one noble dancing  look poisonously at her. It was no secret Lady Laurel was Arl Eamon’s champion in the race for the king’s heir, but her attitude and demeanor were barely tolerable by many Banns, and a lot of them feared that she one day would sit in Ferelden’s throne as Queen. Some moderate Banns pushed for Amell’s particular position in court not exactly out of love to the mage, but out of distaste of Lady Laurel.

 

Hold hands, and move forward.

 

“Oh no, no, the gratitude toward this ball should go to Chancellor Amell, it was her idea and she set the protocol for it herself” The king chuckled at the memory of him suggesting they would serve stew and Amell’s horrified face when she reminded him about the stews in camp.

 

A twirl and clap.

 

“I see, yet she got here a bit…late”

“That she did” he said frowning for a moment, it wasn’t like Amell to get this late, he would ask her once they were alone. The fact that she had traveled with Medical corp and  _ light  _ armor of all the things didn’t settled good with him…

 

Two steps back and bow. 

 

“Oh your majesty, please don’t be too harsh on her” said Lady Laurel with fake pleading, completely misreading the King’s expression.

“What? Oh no no, I was actually worried, she usually gets here days in advance something must have happened if she arrived until now”

“You and her are very close, your Majesty” she said with a soft and practiced voice. A few nobles and elves scoffed at her comment, it was as if she was saying the sky was blue.

“That sort of things happens when you travel together and defeat a couple of Dragons together, makes for a great bonding experience” he said reminiscing about their times on the road, ah good time.

 

A clap and a bow.

 

“A tad improper, won’t you think?” she asked just like a dagger, precise, quick and merciless as soon as the King’s hands were secure on her waist and right hand.

“How so Lady Laurel?” he asked curious now. Most of the time he politely ignored Lady Laurel and the other ladies, speaking only to them when it was absolutely necessary, they weren’t necessarily bad people, but their specific reason to being in Denerim’s court made him uneasy, especially after the incident with Lady Cevile.

“She is a mage, not only that but also a commoner” the way she said commoner gave Alistair all the information he needed, Lady Laurel was for all intents and purposes, not a nice person, he already had gathered at much over the years, but it was the first time she was so direct about her approach.

 

Let your partner hands go and give a full turn on your own.

 

“Mages are people, just like you and I, I’ve seen all kinds of people and generalizing is a dangerous route to take” he said with an even temper, after all eyes were still watching.

“She is brutish and uncivilized” she scoffed thinking about her disheveled appearance in armor from some minutes ago.

 

Turn around and hold hands again.

 

“She is one of the more refined ladies in all of Thedas, not to mention one of the smartest and kindest, she is the Hero for a reason…” he could go on and on about everything good about Amell. Arl Teagan was usually the unfortunate receiver of the long speeches the King gave regarding all the excellent qualities of the Hero of Ferelden, especially if there was wine involved.  He subconsciously spawned a smile enraging, Lady Laurel to her short breaking point. Too many years she had tried to be subtle and cunning so maybe it was time to get an approach brute and uncivilized as the Hero’s.

“Well this Hero” And she practically scoffed the word “Can’t even give you children!”

 

The music stops with a distasteful sound and the couples stopped dancing.

 

The King’s eyes opened in absolute surprise.In one blink the six wardens that had come with the Hero were pointing their weapons to the blonde noble. Something neither the King of the offending Lady seemed to notice, they were locked in a battle of stares.

 

Silence fell deeply in the room.

 

Because Lady Laurel had just addressed the the Bronto in the room, the reason Arl Eamon insisted on a court full of young noble ladies. Years together and neither the King nor the Hero had produced any children. And while it would probably faint a couple of nobles, a bastard heir is better than no heir., as long as it was not a mage. The actual King himself was proof of that.

 

Before any whispers could start, soft steps were heard from one extreme of the room and suddenly  everyone felt it, the raw electricity in the air. The veterans knew exactly where it was coming from, they knew because they had fought alongside the Hero’s party in the Battle of Denerim, this electricity was raw pure power that had reduced hordes of Darkspawn to ashes. They all all unanimously turned to the main door to see Chancellor Amell in a beautiful blue and silver grown with her face paralyzed in a neutral but hard expression. Her hands were clasped together in front of her, electricity oozing from one of her clenched fist.

 

With one hand gesture the Wardens backed down, sheathing their weapons and quickly as they had draw them, and disappearing in the crowd again.

 

Neither the King nor Lady Laurel had moved. Of all the things he anticipated of this ball, such accusation was not even on the list. People didn’t know what to expect, some nobles almost wished for the Hero to smite Lady Laurel in her exact spot. Chancellor Amell walked directly at them, people parting from her path. She indeed was a dangerous woman and not even the proudest nobles wanted to test their own diplomatic immunity at the moment. The King tried to compose his still shocked  face.

“Chancellor” he said with a neutral voice

“Your Majesty” she bowed deeply

 

All blood was drained from Lady Laurel’s face and there was genuine fear for her life.More fear than when the six Wardens had pointed their weapons at her. 

She let go the King’s arm as if it was burning, taking a step back. Never in her coddled life had she contemplated her own mortality as much as when Chancellor Amell looked at her directly on the eye.Chocolate brown against icy blue. She made no mistake, years in court had taught her a lot about reading a person, and Chancellor Amell had pure and undiluted hate in her gaze, not only that, but the mage was fighting to keep control.

Amell then looked at the King and talked with a soft voice. The rest of the guests (and the guards) let out a collective sigh of relief, the Wardens of Amaranthine however remained on guard,  ready to intervene if things were to become awry.

“Lady Laurel seems very tired your majesty, won’t you agree that she needs to return to her chambers?”

“Indeed Chancellor” in one swift movement a guard and a servant ware by the King’s side. “Please escort Lady Laurel to her chambers, she will need her rest for her travel tomorrow”

“Travel?”

“Indeed” Said the Chancellor “Don’t you recall your letter? You were feeling so homesick lately that you needed to return home as soon as possible.”

Lady Laurel knew what this meant, exile from court, and quite possibly out of Denerim, such had been the sentence of the last fool who had insulted the Chancellor’s other position in front of the King. However, she was being allowed to leave with some scraps of dignity. Perhaps Lady Laurel did had some common sense.

“I…of course Arlessa , I thank you for reminding me so accurately” Amell gave her a very short nod as she departed.

 

The rest of the ball went on without further trouble as night turned into dawn.  Nobles retired relatively early, dwarfs were as often the last ones to leave.

“Whenever you two are in Orzammar, be sure to visit the Merchant Quarter, we can have a good time, and if you are feeling adventurous we can even arrange for you to get a swing at some darkspawn.”

“A tempting offer ambassador” said Amell elbowing the king lightly since he was almost falling asleep on his feet “If the moment were to come you’ll be the first one to know”

“By the Stone I shall take your word, Goodnight Chancellor, your Majesty” they said as they retired.

With the last guest gone, or at least gone to sleep, the couple retired to their chambers.

Alistair got a very goofy smile on his face, he hadn’t seen her in almost three months, and he had missed her dearly. However Amell face fell once they were alone.

 

“Alistair, my love, we need to talk” she said in a very serious face. It was then when the King noticed the deep bags under her eyes even covered by makeup. The thinness in her normally round face, the paleness of her lips, the lack of brightness on her hair.  Alarms begun to ring furiously on the King’s head.

“Amell” he said holding both of her hands “Ania, what’s wrong, my dear?” They had stopped in front of the library.

“I…. can we do not do this in the hallway?” she asked shyly. As if the king needed even more reason to be suspicious.

“All right, the library, my room your room the gardens...?” he asked, the gardens were probably a bad idea as he was sure some couples had made use of the gardens for more, pleasurable purposes.

“Not any of our rooms please, the library would do…”

They entered the library quietly, it was a well-lit room with couches and expensive furniture, and everything was arranged so the attention was directed to the King’s desk. They opted for not using the desk and instead head for the love sit by the fireplace. He sat down she didn’t.

 

“Alistair” she gave a deep breath to compose herself, her hands were rubbing her forearms, a nervous habit of hers, on the few occasions she had been smited she r\had rubbed her arms raw. “I found Morrigan”

Alistair eyes opened in surprise, a knot forming in his throat and his mouth drying. “What? When? Why?” he asked, words escaping from his lips before he could even formulate more coherent questions.

“My scouts reported some sightings, I followed the trail and I found her” Of course she failed to mention the corrupted Eluvian, her brief return to Kinloh Hold and to Cadash Thaig, there would be time for that later.

“But why?” he asked again, swallowing loudly.

“I needed to make sure she was alright,I know you despise her and I will not try to convince you to do otherwise, but she was...is my friend and I needed to know she was alright,  that….” she took a deep breath again  “that the baby was alright”

“Oh” 

_ That  _ had been a topic both had carefully been avoiding for many years, the destiny of Morrigan and the product of the Dark Ritual evoked painful memories for both. Alistair would probably have preferred not know, but that fact that she hadn’t mentioned before only gave him more questions than answers.

 

“She is gone from Thedas, and apparently the baby is an innocent, she gave me some ancient Tevinter scrolls and...Well you know I went to see Avernus recently” she said starting to pace “I realized that maybe just maybe we do not have our future set in stone”

“What do you mean?”

“I  _ need  _ to find a cure” she stressed the word need, as she bit into the nail of her index finger.

“A cure?”

“Yes, a cure for The Calling, something to take the taint from our blood, so we can…” She made a pause followed with a haunted expression that didn’t escaped the King’s notice “so we can live longer, and not fall into the despair and decay that would drag us to the Deep Roads”

“Do you think it is possible?” he asked curiously, this was definitely not what he was expecting tonight. This was even more surprising than Lady Laurel’s outburst in the dance floor.

“I found an alchemic formula, it was it has taken me months to decipher and it’s ….incomplete.” She avoided his gaze when she said the word ‘incomplete’  “but I do believe the answer lies on the West,farther than the Urthemiel Plateau,  in lands that have never been touched by the Blight, places with distinct magic and…”

“You are leaving” said  Alistair softer than intended. He could hear his heart breaking. Everyone leaved him, as always.

“Yes” she said touching his face in a gentle gesture “I don’t know for how long” she bit her lip worryingly, avoiding his gaze. She looked at the dancing flames.

“Is that why you had been crying and not sleeping?” he asked in the quiet voice.

“What?” she asked puzzled  turning around to see him. His hand covered the hand she had over his cheek. Her hands were cold and sweaty.

“You can’t fool me Amell” he said standing up and cupping her face. She flinched for the slightest moment.

“I…” she didn’t dared to see him in the eye, her face was as heartbroken as his. This wonderful man, she was leaving him to the wolves, she was leaving  _ her Alistair  _ alone. But if her heart was the price for him to survive she would cut it herself. He deserved to live, to live more than some meager thirty years, he deserved to get old.

“There is something more, your face tells a bigger story than this development” he took her right hand in his. “I won’t push, but you know I am here, and I will always be here, waiting for you.”

“I doubt Eamon would be pleased with such development” she said quietly, looking at him with her big brown eyes.

“To the void with Eamon, he has been parading noble women in court like it was a festival” he said as he hugged her . “I am sorry at what Lady Laurel said, I have been trying to get her out of the court for years, but you know how some of the Bannon and Eamon can be, one minute is ‘Oh thank you for saving our life’ and the next one is ‘please lower our taxes pretty please’”

She chuckled for a moment, and he realized how much had he missed her laugh, her very being. Without thinking he tilted her chin and planted a solid kiss on her lips. She was surprised and it took her a few seconds to react, but when she did he could feel the electricity running thru both. 

She too had missed him. 

They separated due the need of air and while he wore a bittersweet smile, Amell’s face was pure desolation.

“Amell what…” but he couldn’t finish because now she was kissing him. But the kiss had…something painful beneath it. Alistair suspicions were proven true when he felt the dampness in her cheeks.

She was crying.

If alarm bells were sounding before they were now deafening, Amell wasn’t one to shed tears without reason, was this really a final goodbye, once she left the palace would he never see her again?

She cried after the Alienage Orphanage and after the Circle Tower. She cried after Redcliffe and making the impossible decision of sacrificing Isolde’s life, and once again after she was safe after Fort Drakon. She had almost cried when Morrigan…no, he didn’t wanted to think about that now. They separated he put one of his hand in her shoulder while the other cupped her face forcing her to look at him.

“Ania Solona” he used her full name rarely, only when the situation was absolutely serious. This made her look at him square in the eye. Agony written in her face, tears still flowing. “Please my dear, tell me you will come back to me” he said with a broken voice, he needed her to say it.

Amell didn’t respond but she threw her arms around him and hugged him with desperation. He held her close as she dampened his fancy shirt as they both sank into the soft sofa. She began mumbling apologies between sobs. They remained like that for that it seemed hours, Alistair rubbing gentle circles on her back, holding back his own tears, he needed to be strong now, he needed her to see he won’t fall apart when she leaves, that Ferelden was to continue strong. She eventually fell asleep in his arms, and he carried to her bedroom. He decided he would stay there as well. He could almost hear the scolding Eamon would give him in the morning when he saw him emerging from the Chancellor’s room, but at the moment he didn’t care, Amell was upset, Amell was crying and was not going anywhere. He placed her in the bed, removed her shoes and jewelry. He decided to sleep on his underpants and shirt. So he just removed the fancy layer of silk and laid at some distance from her in the bed. She was so close to him, and yet so far. He began to feel the day crumbling inside of him, all the day’s events finally setting down. Amell was leaving him, how was he supposed to continue….

His thoughts were interrupted when he felt a cold hand reach for him.

“May I hold you?” she asked in a barely audible voice.

“Most definitely” he responded getting closer to her. Normally he was the one doing the holding, he didn’t mind that right now.

“Goodnight my love” she said breathing in his back

“Goodnight my dear” he responded back intertwining his fingers with hers, trying to burn this memory in his brain. After a few minutes, they both mercifully fell asleep.

  
  
  



	2. Theodore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair finally gets to know what had caused Amell so much grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Waring: Miscarriage

The following months were a frenzy, Arl Eamon barely hid the fact that he was too happy on finally becoming full Chancellor and the fact that Amell was leaving for undefined time without him actually doing anything. Appointments were made and preparations begun. Few people knew about the nature of Amell’s travel, including her inner circle during the blight days.

As weeks passed Alistair couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was on the head of his beloved. She sighed very frequently, her eyes still looked so tired and a shadow of sadness covered her face when she tough he wasn’t looking. She hid it well but not as well as she thought.

Alistair could be a very patient man if he had the right motivation, but even he had a limit. He had given her the space she had silently asked, and didn’t questioned or mention the Night of Tears, for he assumed he knew the reason for the Commander’s breakdown. His instincts however were screamening he was missing _something_.  It was one month for her departure, and still he had that ugly feeling in the back of his head.

Who would have thought that a simple action could open a whole dam?

It occurred in their private quarters while she was brushing her hair. One of the few moments her hair wasn’t coiled on a tight bun. She was there brushing her hair as he finished signing some trade agreements when she began to hum. At first it was a pleasant sound, during their camp days she often hummed Liliana’s songs for days.  It was a nice enough sound, calming and peaceful, almost like a lullaby. By reflex he also began to hum, but the tune evolved into a sad melancholic tune and suddenly stopped when she could no longer hid her sobs. She had her face buried in her hand as violent breathings shaked her body. To see her, the strongest person he knew sobbing silently was unbearable.

He rose from his desk and approached from behind, not missing the fact that she still flinched at his touch, as she been doing since her return. He took her hand between his and kneeled in front of her with his head low.

“Amell please, tell me what’s wrong, what am I missing? I can’t bear to see you like this” He felt his own eyes watering, he felt so useless. “Say anything, if you want the throne of Orlais or the title of Viscount of Kirkwall I’ll give it to you, but please my dear tell me what’s wrong…”

He meant every word, he knew she knew he will give her anything she asked, she held as much power over him as he over her. That’s why the court feared her, and that was why the Wardens respected him, had Alistair decided to exile the order once again they knew Amell would obey out of love to the king , and if Amell wanted to march to Halamshiral the kingdom knew the king would only ask when and how many troops she needed. She wielded the power of a queen, and he wielded the power of a Warden Commander.

Amell looked thru her tear stained lashes, looking absolutely miserable , fragile and almost broken. He places a small kiss in one of her hands and something inside her seemed to break inside her. She tumbled into the floor openly crying into his chest as the night after the Ball.

“If I tell you you’ll hate me!” she said as she clutched his shirt as a man clutched the last piece of wood in a wreckage.

“Amell there is nothing you can tell me that could possibly make me…” But he didn’t get to finish his earnest declaration.

“I was pregnant Alistair, I was pregnant and I lost the baby, and it is my fault!” Gone were the silent sobbing, she was openly weeping at this point, her knuckles white from the strength she was clutching to the King, still not letting go his shirt.

“What?” he asked digesting the news that has surprised him as a bucket of cold water, of all the things that occurred to him…

A child, his child, their child gone before was even there. Suddenly all made sense, her rage at the ball, her haunted eyes and her weary face. She was grieving, she was grieving a pain not mother should suffer and did all in silence. He hugged her tightly against his chest, his own tears pooling at the news. He heard to her ragged breathing trying and failing to formulate words, after several attempts her voice was clear enough for him to understand her.

"In the circle we are taught not to desire children, we are cursed by magic after all, when I became a Grey Warden I accepted the fact that my body will never hold a child, we have never been careful so I always...assumed that it was simply not possible, when I got the symptoms I laughed at the notion, barren Amell? Pregnant? It was laughable” she laughed bitterly, it was a cruel sound directed at herself “I had to eat my words when Velanna, Ingrid, and Danica confirmed it."

Her voice became brittle, not daring to rise her head and see his expression, as she was sure only disgust will be shown in his features. "All the barriers I had constructed around the idea of motherhood, all my cynicism, all the filth the Chantry had been teaching me, all turned into ash in my mouth when I discovered I was truly pregnant, I felt the heartbeat and cried for an hour in my ofice, I was so scared, so surprised and yet so happy, Alistair I was so, so happy…” her voice turned bitter and angry  “I...I constructed a future with our child in mind, either as a prince or as an apostate, or even both. Those months...maker those months I just wanted to run back to you, run! And you know how I despise running, to tell you, but I knew it was dangerous to write, I wanted to wait until the Ball and..." she couldn’t continue as a sob ripped from her lips violently, to remember that horrible afternoon made her sick to her stomach.

Hope. Hope was the thing that had bent her to the point of almost breaking. The Despair Demons have never sounded so clear or tempting as they had on that afternoon.

“How long?” he managed to ask without his voice breaking.

“I was entering my third month, I wanted to be sure before…. before telling you, then two days before the ball…” She couldn’t continue, the sobs drowned her voice once more . There had been so much blood…

“That’s why you were late” he realized in shock. And yet she had put out a diplomatic face, greeted guest and reinforce treaties.

Dealt with Lady Laurel.

“The ride was painful but I needed to be here…”  Alistair could see her, laying in Vigil’s Keep, pale and weary, fighting with all the medics and healers of the Keep, using her authority as Commander of the Grey to order the worried Wardens to allow her to attend the damn Ball.

“Amell had I know…” he began.  To the void with the guest he was more than willing to sent them all home, if he had know...

“Stop” she said looking at him with the most defeated expression he had ever saw on her “There was nothing you could have done”

“Neither did you” said Alistair separating himself from her, taking both her shoulders in his hands. His eyes were sad and swimming in tears, but compassionate and full of love. She looked at him as if he just declared that he was leaving the throne to Eamon. Absolute disbelief.

“There was nothing you could have done to prevent this, it was not your fault”. He was not completely inexperienced with the subject, Lady Isolde experienced many losses before having Connor. He had been a child, but he knew Isolde’s gaze hardened on him every time she disappeared for a week and healers came and went from the castle.

“The taint…” she argued weakly

“If that’s the case then I am equally guilty” he said firmly with conviction on his tone. His disposition was strong as a stone from Orzammar.

“But Morrigan…” she tried to say.

“That was blood magic and Flemeth magic, it doesn’t count.”

“Alistair” she said pleadingly, like she was begging him to blame her.

“I am sorry, my dear, for letting you shoulder this alone” he lifter one hand from her shoulder to to cup her face “You have been very brave” he said as he stroked her hair, taking between his fingers the delicate strand of grey that now grew from her head. and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Amell felt as if she was breaking again, but this time in a good way, she was so vulnerable,  and yet she felt cherished and loved.

Her respiration began to normalize, calming down. To say it  out loud removed a weight she didn’t knew knew she was carrying. Alistair pressed his forehead to hers.

“I love you, forever and always” he said it in such convictions she had no choice but to believe him.

“I love you too Alistair, more than my life” and she meant it, every word.

They spent the rest of the night close to each other, not letting go. To the Void the servants and nobles who whispered, he was not letting her go before the time came.

“I think it would have been a boy” she whispered quietly in the darkness.

“Oh?” he asked holding her a bit tighter

“If you don’t want to talk about it I understand…” she said regretting talking at all and breaking the spell the darkness offered.

“No, tell me everything” Knowing everything might give them closure, for both of them. He usually was not a fan to dwell on the if’s but this time he would allow it.

“You were saying , my dear?”

“I…I think it would have been a boy, I imagined it would have been a copy of you…”

“Is Thedas really prepared for that?” he said thinking about a babe with sandy hair and hazel eyes.

“He would have had bright blue eyes…” she said in a whisper

“Why? Neither of us have blue eyes…”

“My mother had blue eyes, apparently my family has...had infamous blue eyes, and I have relatives in the Free Marches, apparently”

“The Champion, by any chance?”

“How do you know?” she asked quietly.

“She looks a little like you, when I went to Kirkwall I thought the salt was making me see things”. The Champion of Kirkwall might as well had been her sister, same cheeks and the same group of misfits following her around, probably an Amell trait, other than the obvious magic they both wielded. “Do you think he would have been a mage?”

“It was a high possibility” responded the Commander

“Why? I mean besides the fact that you are a mage” he wondered if he had any magic in his bloodline, after all Goldanna had been pretty useless in family history.

“I…I don’t really remember my mother or my father but what little information I was able to collect I was apparently the eldest of five, all mages, but stories vary very much on what happen to them.”

“Do you remember anything about her, your mother I mean?” he asked, the subject of Mothers was another subject they rarely touched. Too many sensitive areas to navigate around.

“Sometimes if I sleep very deep I remember a scene, it’s a city, strong, reminds me of Orzammar for some reason, the smell of sea, I am being carried away I felt cold and hard against my chest, a woman, my mother I think, is crying, begging even, her words don’t make sense, they are blurred, but I promise something, I don’t remember what. But I remember her eyes, bright blue eyes, so very sad. I was six when I was taken to the circle, but I remember that one of the first questions I ever asked was if I could turn my eyes blue. Thinking back, I probably just wanted to remember my mother…” She had never dug very deep in her own family history, she was afraid on what she could discover.

“Amell…” he said carefully with a small voice, but she shook her head and continued

“That’s why when I…found out… I prayed he wouldn’t be a mage, I don’t think I could have accepted having my child taken from me…The Maker has an awful sense of irony” she laughed humorlessly and darkly. “I criticized Isolde’s decision to hide Connor as selfish and irresponsible, and now I can’t help but to empathize with her…” her voice had a bitter edge. Alistair himself would have stood between her and the Templars, sword and shield in hand. He almost left pity for the Templars who would have been tasked to take that child. Almost.

“Did you…did you thought of any names?” he asked trying to move to less painful topics.

“Of course, he would have been Loghain Rendon Theirin Amell” she smiled just a bit at that.

“Very funny my dear” he said frowning“however the question stands”

“Theodore” she said “I was thinking Theodore”

“Theodore Therein” he tried “It rolls nicely on the mouth, don’t I get to choose one name?”

“Only one” she said in a soft attempt of arrogance.

“Duncan” he said “I would have named him Duncan”

She grew very quiet and whispered “Prince Theodore Duncan Therein Amell. It sounds nice” she hadn’t realized she was crying again. Talking the if’s was like ripping the scab of a wound, but for some reason it was almost soothing, like she was genuinely mourning now. And now she didn’t have to lock herself in her room to cry, now she was in the arm of the person she loved the most in the world.

Alistair chocked a bit before talking again “Was the baby…. was he properly laid to rest?” he asked quietly

Amell shifted uncomfortably. “Alistair, by that time he still wasn’t…. he still didn’t look like a baby, it was mostly blood” Lies. However she didn’t want to give the  details that would haunt his nightmares, the images of that day already would haunt hers.

“Oh” he said

“Valena” she said “Valena is a Dalish elf, a Grey Warden, you probably remember her the one who declared she didn’t bow to _shem_ lords and received a hit with the pommel of my sword. She had seen this things happen before, she said that in her Clan, when this…happen, you gather all the bloodied clothing, burn it and then plant a tree with the ashes. So that the child continues living, so that’s what we did, the tree is in the Keep. We did that since the Chantry doesn’t exactly give  instructions for this …situations”

“That does sound Dalish”

“He is with the Maker, maybe when I die he’ll be waiting for me…I hope when the time comes I will recognize him…” she couldn't continue and turned to face him. “Andraste, what if he doesn’t recognize me?!” She began to hyperventilate, why hadn’t she thought about that?

Alistair pressed her firmly against her chest. “Shh shh, it’s alright my love, when we die we will surely see him again and even if he doesn't recognize us we will recognize him, we will see those blue eyes we talked about and that stubborn gaze you have and Maker forbid, maybe my nose…”

Amell calmed down a moment.

“You think?”

“I am sure about it”

She fell asleep, deeply, it was as it was the first time she had slept soundly in months, which probably was true. The next weeks weren’t considered easy, but there was determination in Amell’s gaze. She had lost something, but she would not lose anything ever again, she will find the cure and she will save Alistair from the Calling. Even if it meant never again to place a foot in Ferelden. If she needed to go to Tevinter, Par Vollen and the depths of the Dales she would. If the Trip involved traveling to uncharted territory she would.

She had a reason to fight.


	3. Parting Gifts

The following month passed quickly and soon it was time  to depart for Vigil’s Keep in the morning to finishing sorting things up and naming Nathaniel as the acting Warden Commander on her absence, then would depart to Amaranthine, take a boat to Val Royeaux  and continue West, following the strange ruins of Tevinter.

Everything was set. It was their week together and she would make sure to be one worth remembering. She entered his quarters, silent as a mouse. He was concentrated on something on his desk.

She couldn’t resist, it was so perfect for a scare, and her intentions had been vastly different when she first entered the lavish room, but now she channeled her inner Zevran. The fact that he was looking down made it even easier. She leaned over, like a snake ready to strike. Only to be greeted by his lips on hers.

A surprising development to say the least.

She sunk into the kiss deeply, separating when she found a giggle emerging from his mouth.

“What’s so funny your Majesty?” she asked with a pout

“That you think that you can scare me? I can feel you my dear” he said amused an easy smile forming in his lips.

She had forgotten about that little detail. Another reason to curse the Taint.

“You were so busy I couldn’t resist” she said eyeing the parchments, some letters from Empress Celene, and some others from Orzammar. She made a face at the Orelssian Empress letter.

“And now you ruined the surprise” said Alistair dramatically, standing from his desk. He began to remove his leather armor slowly.An armor he wore out of insistance of Amell after his second assasination attempt. The red leather was even enchanted.

“Surprise?” she asked not missing a single movement he was making. She knew he knew that watching him undress melted her. So the  _ bastard  _ knew what he was doing.

“Yes, a surprise” he said removing his white silk shirt dramatically. The fire illuminating his flexing muscles. Amell could stare at those arms for decades.Full of scars as her own.

“I think your surprise will work just fine your majesty” she said as color rising to her cheeks. She was biting her lip as she often did when being impatient, at this pace she would start to rub her forearms. How she loved this man. Said man who was walking shirtless and confidently towards her.

“Maker” she half whispered.

Yet he passed her as if she wasn’t even there instead heading towards a drawer just behind her. He pulled out a wooden box.

Alistair cleared his throat.

“Mage Ania Solona Amell” he said using his king voice “For the services provided towards the defense of Ferelden and to the crown” he winked “I am honored to present you two gifts.” He said opening the box to reveal a ring and a medall. “A medall unique for your rank that shall prove the world of your identity and services to Ferelden” he said pulling a beautiful heavy  silverite medal and placing it on her hands. It was a beautiful crest of arms, it had the Ferelden coat of arms, grey warden gryphons, a circle symbol two falcon on the side and a rose in the very center.

“Falcons?” she asked

“Shh, I am not finished” he said returning to his king voice “And a ring for you to seal the letters you will be writing to the crown in your absence to inform it of your discoveries” he pulled out her right hand and slip the silverite finger. A perfect fit with the same crest fitting in the central oval.

He left the box on the desk and kissed the ring he just had placed in her hand.

“Now I am done” he said with a smirk, placing his arms around her waist.

“All this, just to tell me to write you? You know I will, every day if possible” she was very touched actually, and the ring was beautiful, it almost singed…

“I commissioned the crest a while ago, I never knew when the right moment to give it to you was, the ring is new…”

“Alistair…”

“The ring has Lyrium infused” he explained taking her hand “It should empower your magic more, if there is ever an emergency it should be able to work as a Lyrium potion.”

“Oh” she said observing the tiny blue veins  in the ring. It had beautiful craftsmanship, no doubt it came from Orzammar. Perhaps a gift from Behlem?

“You asked about the Falcons” he said interrupting her train of thought “I made some digging on my recent visit to Kirkwall, apparently that is the Amell crest, I think it would be nice for you to have it”

She hugged him.

“Thank you, both are beautiful” she said in earnest.

The stayed in silence for a while.

“I will miss you” he finally said whispering in her ear.

“I will miss you too Alistair, I love you” she hugged him tighter, memorizing her lover.

“I love you too my dear” he said as he smelled her hair and caressed her back. Then in one swift movement he had her over his shoulder.

“Alistair!” she said surprised at her sudden change of position. One minute she was hugging the man, the next she was being carried as a sack of flour. She was dropped unceremoniously into the soft and large bed.

“Now my lady” he said with hungry eyes “If you allow me I want to express my undying love for you for the rest of the night and the rest of this deaded week...”

She giggled “Oh Ser Alistair, It would be  _ my  _ pleasure”

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“I used to call you Nia, do you remember?” he said as she cuddled in his arms.

“Of course I remember, completely unnecessary as I already have a short name”

“You used to call me Tair” he whispered in her bare shoulder. 

“I was young and sappy, besides I bet nobody ever called you ‘Tair’.”

“We are still young , my dear and that is true, well, some maids back in Redcliffe used to call me Ali when I was a kid”

“That’s the normal shortening for your name, oh ‘defender of man’.” she said with mock reverence.

“Well it’s better than ‘grace of the sun’” he retaliated.

“I knew I should have never told you my middle name” She rarely used the name ‘Solona’ she acknowledged it was a part of her but something about the name always made her feel sad.

“Don’t be like that  _ sunshine” _

Alistair was properly hit in the face with a pillow.  Suddenly Amell scrambled away from his arms. Alistair gave a small whine in protest. “Amell, come back to bed…”

“In a minute, she said covering herself with a discarded sheet, which also earned another whine from Alistair.

She rummaged thru the room looking for her discarded dress, now where had they thrown the poor mistreated garment? Alistair also rose from bed and grabbed his red silk robe.

“What are you looking for?” he asked rubbing his eyes, it was too late or early for this kind of activities.

“My dress, I had...a little something for you too, I was going to give it to you before we were interrupted by, our  _ other  _ activities”

“I regret nothing” said the other Warden smiling brightly

“Of course you don’t”

She finally found what was left of the dress near the fireplace, and got a hold of a little package of the pocket of the dress.

“So...what is it”

She gave him an impish smile.

“Kneel” she commanded

“What?”

“Oh come on, play along” whispered the Commander of the Grey

“You are asking the King to kneel? My, my, such insubordination….”

Amell rose an eyebrow which pulled a giggle of his lips.

“Alright Alright” he kneeled as he did when he was a templar, one knee on the floor, and his hands on the risen knee. Or course on this occasion he was wearing little more than a silken robe.

“Ser Alistair Theirin, you had served as my champion in innumerable occasions, I owe you a great debt that can never be repaid, but accept this token of my affection” she unwrapped the small package to reveal a red piece of clothing. Alistair was somehow confused. “It is customary in the Free Marches to receive the favor of a lady under the promise that her champion will return from a quest alive to give it back to the lady in question. However given this particular circumstance I bestow you with my favor, under the promise I will come back to reclaim it”

She took his arm and tied the red garment on his arm.

“Alright, now we can get back to bed” she said quickly moving back to the large wooden bed. Alistair was still kneeling still processing what just had happened. He untied the red garment, so see it was embroidered, forming a rose with golden and pink thread, however the embroidery looked clumsy and irregular, even the lace in the edges was sewed irregularly with some trails straighter than others, this was made with a hand not used to...oh.

“Amell” he said rising “you made this?”

“I am asleep, not listening” she said covering her flushing face with a sheet. Maker, what had she done? She should have commissioned the thing, he have her a medal and a lyrium infused ring and she gave him an embroidered disaster. Her face began to burn in shame. She heard his approach to her side of the bed.

“I am asleep” she said closing her eyes forcefully.

“No you are not” he said softly “Open your eyes, please?”

She sighed , there was no way to avoid this.When she opened her eyes Alistair cas resting his face on the edge of the bed, looking at her tenderly.

“You mean it?” he asked

“What?”

“That you will come back to me”

“Yes” she responded earnestly, she will do anything in her power to come back...if it was possible.

“In that case, my Lady, I solemnly swear to hold to your favor until you are back” he grabbed her hand and kissed it. “No matter for how long” Alistair now sat on the bed and kissed her on the lips. She reciprocated savoring each second of it. 

The sheet and the robe ended up in the floor once more

 

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She departed at the end of that week, determination firm in her gaze. The King as sad as he could be remained dignified and regal at the departure of the Hero, clutching a red garment on his gloved hand. Tears would come later, he was sure of it, but for now he had reports to fill and a Kingdom to run. He had to be strong so Ferelden could remain strong. Because he knew she would be back to him, like she always had. He had a reason to fight. 


	4. Epilogue

It would be five years before they saw each other again, and the circumstances of their meeting would be bittersweet as a new threat approached in the horizon.


End file.
